Some days I wonder why I keep doing this. Why in the world do I continue to write in this space when it seems like no one reads it and I can’t see why it’s interesting enough for anyone to care. My days of this feeling tend to pass and they don’t come that often. Mostly it has to do with my mood in the moment, which frankly sucks right now. I am in a funk, have been for two days at least. Plain and simple, I am just a bit of a mess.

It makes me question everything. Question things that I know to be true. Question who I am and what in the hell I am doing with my life. I wonder if I am putting too much out into the world, too little maybe; is this blog not worthwhile, because I refuse to put pictures of my children on it? Because I don’t join everything there is to join, to get my name out there? Do I want my name out there? Too many questions and no answers. I am full of uncertainty today.

Then this morning, two things happened, which have changed my mood a bit. A lovely friend asked me if she could submit a post of mine to BlogHer for a community panel. I was shocked. I was thrilled. Frankly, I’m a bit terrified. But it made me think about this place and what I write here, what I share with you all.

I also read the most beautiful letter over at AMomTwoBoy’s place. It made me realize why I do this. I do it for all of you, this community that I am a part of. This community had joined together these past few weeks. In the face of tragedy for a family, we’ve all tried to make a difference. I’ve seen more love and support in the blog world in the past month, than I have seen in the past few years. Two weeks without trolls, two weeks without arguments, two weeks filled with love and grief. Love for Heather and Mike, for Maddie and for each other. Grief at the loss of a beautiful angel, grief for her parents left behind; grief at the uncertainty that is life.

This is a small part of the email at Meghan’s place, which please when you have a second, go read it in full. It is very moving.

My extended family has begun to dread Fridays. With good reason, as every death in the family has happened on a Friday. In September it was my Grandfather, in December my Grandmother, two weeks ago, my Uncles Father-in-Law, last week, my Aunts Father-in-Law. Each one on a Friday.

Today my Uncle Mark passed away. My brother called me a few hours ago and told me. My dad is on his way to LA from San Fran and wasn’t able to call everyone. My other uncle found him this afternoon. Most likely it was a heart attack. Three family members in two weeks. It may be an all-time record. But hey, it was on a Thursday, which although is not any better, we were starting to think Fridays were cursed.. Then again, there is still time.

I am, by nature, an optimist. Once I was even called an insufferable optimist. I have always been the, it’s gonna be okay type of person. These days though, I’m having trouble not being a huge freaking pessimist. I had this feeling that it wasn’t done, this pattern of people dying and I was right. I find myself wondering who is next. I was not prepared for who it would be. My fifty-four year old uncle; not someone I thought to say good-bye too.

Tonight I’ve talked to friends and family and each time I’ve told them all how much I love them. Life is short people. It’s so short and there are no guarantees. I could live to see a hundred and God dammit, I want too. I want to watch my babies grow up and have babies of their own. I want to meet my great-grand babies. I want to dance with my husband at weddings for many years to come. But there are no guarantees in this life. This, my friends has become painfully clear too me this past six months. I am very painfully aware.

Hug your babies close, dance with your spouse, tell everyone how much you love them. We have to live like we will live to see 95 years old, because it’s the right way to live, but we need to love like we won’t. I am going to go all sappy and sentimental now and tell you all that I love you. I do, truly. You guys mean more too me than you know. I am so glad that you are all in my life.

To my uncle Marky, I will always love you and remember you. I hope you rest in peace.

I’m having trouble with this loss. Losing her just hurts. One more on top of so many this past couple of years. You’d think it’d get easier, but it doesn’t. Just harder. It just hurts.

Three and a half years of knowing that this could be the last visit, the last phone call, the last I love you. Somehow you are still never prepared. I know she’s someplace better. This, I know I believe in. I know she’s with him; the love of her life. I know she was in horrible pain. Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Doesn’t make me not want to fold into myself; lie in bed for days, weeks even; alone with my head.

They’re gonna have the service tomorrow afternoon. Try and make it as painless as possible, so people can get home for Christmas. Christmas, I don’t even want to think about Christmas anymore. If it were up to me, I’d take it all down and pretend it didn’t exist. I can’t and I won’t. I do want to. How do you find the holiday spirit when your spirit feels beaten and broken? When your heart has been shattered into so many pieces that no one can find all of them.

I can’t handle much more drama and pain. I don’t know what I’ll do if one more thing goes wrong, one more person I love, gone.

As a child of divorce, the holidays were never the amazingly fun experience that my children have. It was filled with hard feelings and worry about the other parent. It was each of them, in their own way, trying to out do each other. It was filled with, whose turn is it, you had them last year, like we were shoes or a kite and not small children. The years we went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house with my mom, those were my favorite Christmas’s. Christmas to me, it was best with them. They always did it at their house. Any child was welcome, along with their family, even their in-laws if they wanted. But they never, ever, didn’t do it at their house. They had a massive tree, tons of treats and gifts. Christmas Eve we walked through the college and ooohed and awed at the lights. Dinner was at 2pm and gifts were opened after. It was the same, it was tradition. I am trying my best to do that with my kids. Make traditions for them, lasting good memories. For Christmas to be about our family, no matter what everyone else thinks. But Christmas is not Christmas without them. They were the rocks of this family. Now they are both gone. Three months and a week apart.

Yesterday would have been my grandfathers birthday. But he’s been gone over three months. I’m not over this one yet. I haven’t gotten to the point where I don’t cry when he is mentioned; where I don’t smell a man with his aftershave and a hint of listerine and it not make me weak with grief. I don’t hear a song that reminded him of me and not break down, no matter where I am. It’s hard to look at his pictures, to think about the places we were when they were taken. I didn’t name Harrison after my grandpa, because I wasn’t to the point that I thought I could say his name all the time. I wanted too, but I just couldn’t. I pray that one day, when I’m ready, I get the chance too have another boy and name him after him. I’m just not ready to go through this again. I don’t know how to lose people gracefully. How do you say good-bye for good?

I’m sinking. I feel it. I’ve eaten all day, but I can’t tell you what any of it was. I haven’t been hungry. I was angry at stupid stuff earlier, because it was easier to be angry than too feel. Now, I could care less about plane tickets, spilled ice tea or anything else so trivial. I am feeling the loss and it’s eating me up inside. I have to get up at 3am to go to the airport. Fly two hours, drive three hours, go to a funeral and then turn around and do the same thing on Sunday to get home. I’m not taking the kids. Logan thinks it will be too hard on them, too much for me. He’s right, I’m sure. I wish he was going. I need him, my babies. Mostly right now, I need him. He knows and it’s killing him too. But our kids need him too. They are grieving too and they need one of us here. We have people. People who offered to keep them, the dog, stay here even. But I’m going alone.

I should sleep. But I just can’t. I can’t go to sleep. If I go to bed, I won’t get up and go at 3am tomorrow. If I go to bed, I will stay there. Maybe in a few days, when I get home, I’ll feel different. But this is how I feel right now. I feel like if I go and lay down, I won’t make myself go and say good-bye, because I don’t want to say good-bye. No matter what though, she’s gone and she’s not coming back. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t go. Put flowers on her grave and his too, say good-bye.

I am sad. This week has put me through the ringer.

Ok, I’m going to bed now. My husband swears he’s making me get up in oh 4ish hours or so. He says to trust him and I do. More than anyone in this world, I do trust him. He’s my person. I’ll be better in a few days, I will. For my kids, for my grandparents who would want me to snap the heck out of it. In a few days I’ll come back and tell you how amazing my grandmother was.

For now, I’m just gonna be sad. I’m trying so hard not to sink. My head is just above the water. But I can swim.